


My heart undone

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, OTP Feels, Phone Sex, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Space sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 11:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11462904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Either Finn has him very well-trained (which would be awesome) or Poe has become, while stuck in this backwater void, super-sensitive. Like someone going blind: maybe without inputs, he's become psychic.  Even better:sex-psychic. That would be amazing.(Poe's stuck on a stake-out, Finn calls him up to keep him company. Things go porn-shaped.)





	My heart undone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orchis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchis/gifts).



> for O., who's even more fond of Poe being undone by Finn than I.
> 
> Title from Kendrick's ["i"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aShfolR6w8).

Poe has been stuck in this empty sector for five standard days. He's a human monitor, but he's not monitoring a damn thing. Nothing's out here. There's no way the Order is using this sector to ferry materiel at subluminal speed; all he has seen is endless dark and, down in the right-hand corner of the viewport, the faint smear of the next system over.

He has twenty more standard hours until he can get out of here. 

When the commlink rings, Poe nearly leaps out of his seat. BB-8 snarks at him with a rapid series of chirping trills.

"Funny, funny, let's laugh at the jumpy human, it's so hilarious," Poe says. 

"You got that right!" BB crows as he rolls off toward the drive room. 

Poe smashes the button to respond. "Mining probe 7812, this is a recording, stand by for data spiel."

"Hey, you," Finn says. It has to be Finn, since other than General Organa, only he and Statura have this frequency. And the hour that Statura calls him to chat is the last shivering hour before the heat death of the universe. "How're you doing?"

He sounds so _warm_. 

"7812 reports no ill-effects." Poe leans in to the console, as if he can get closer than _light years_. "Systems check normal."

"Glad to hear it," Finn replies, laughter in his voice. Poe can just about see his smile, his eyes narrowing and flash of his teeth. "Wouldn't want a malfunction."

"7812's tests of secure communications remain inconclusive." He has to be careful. At least make a gesture at caution.

"My security is, by contrast, top-notch. Just the very best, beyond any mining probe's paltry imaginings."

From the passage, BB makes a low interrogative whistle. Poe releases the button and calls, "it's just Finn, Beeb. He's speaking metaphorically."

"Get the security protocols, just in case," BB tells him.

"Sure," Poe says and hits the button again. He toggles the switch over to continuous send and takes a breath as he settles back in the seat, arms loosely crossed. "You're sure you're secure?"

"Safe as private dwellings," Finn says. "Safe as...other safe things, yes."

"All right. Hi."

"Hey," Finn says, just as warm and intense as the first time. "Miss you."

"Miss _you_ , you have no idea." Poe's skin goes tight, as if remembering all at once how far away he is from Finn.

Finn laughs again. "I think I can formulate _some_ idea, actually."

"You can't."

"I can," Finn says. "I'm very resourceful, man. I can dream up _all kinds_ of scenarios."

"Yeah, but..." Poe rubs his palms together, trying to ward off the persistent chill. "Fuck, it's so quiet here."

"In that old bucket?"

"Point," Poe concedes. "It's very loud but also quiet here. Loud in predictable ways, quiet in an all-encompassing horrifying way."

"Aww." Finn sounds so sympathetic that, were this coming from anyone else, Poe would hear it as utter sarcasm. With Finn, however, it's genuine. Laced with sarcasm, sure, because he likes to tease Poe to an (uncomfortable yet hugely thrilling) extent. "The demands made of our heroes and leaders."

"They're huge!"

"Sure," Finn says and then there's a pause, barely anything, but Poe sits up a little straighter anyway. "Speaking of huge..."

Poe grins and pumps his fist. _He knew it_ , he knew this was coming. Either Finn has him very well-trained (which would be awesome) or he has become, in this backwater void, super-sensitive. Like someone going blind: maybe without inputs, he's become psychic. Even better: _**sex** -psychic_. That would be amazing.

"Still there, 7812?" Finn asks.

"Shit! Yeah, I'm here! Sorry!"

There's a break in the transmission, or maybe all the frustration and worry coalesced into a single rush of overwhelming static.

When it clears, Finn says again, "I miss you. That's obvious, I know, but it's true."

"Not necessarily," Poe says. "Obvious, I mean."

"Really?" He sounds like he's laughing again.

"Well. I don't know. Maybe not." Poe rubs his knuckles along his jaw. His lips burn a little.

"Man..." Finn's probably shaking his head in that way he does when Poe says something particularly dense or strange or baffling. "I do."

"Yeah. I do, too." He starts to amend that -- _I miss you, not me, that would be weird_ \-- but Finn interrupts him.

"A lot, I mean," Finn says, his tone gone rougher. "A lot."

Poe is briefly tempted to draw that remark out: _Oh, yeah? How much is a lot? This much? Hmm?_ but he's tense and horny and so fucking lonely. "Tell me how much."

Finn groans a little. "Poe."

"Finn."

"I want you back," Finn says. "I want your body under mine."

"This old thing?"

"That old thing, yeah. Your face and your hands, the _weight_ of you, your hair, your--"

"You said my hair itches!"

"Poe."

"Sorry. Sorry. Go on."

"I can't," Finn says. "It's all pictures. Sensations. Not words."

Poe grins and wriggles a little, spreading his legs and tugging open the fasteners on his trousers. "I'm beyond description, huh?"

"Asshole."

Poe doesn't know why he's doing this. He always does this. What the hell is his problem? He wants to get off, too, and he wants to listen to Finn until his dying day, he wants all of that, and he wants it so badly. So why is he being so obnoxious, such an obstacle? "Okay, got it. Asshole, let's cut right to the fun part."

Finn's quiet for a while and Poe hits the butt of his hand against his forehead. In trying not to be obnoxious, he has, quite obviously, swung _all the way_ around right back to it.

"Yeah," Finn says at last, dreamily. Musingly. "Yeah. Both your legs over my shoulders, itchy-scratchy leg hair rubbing on me, and I'll just suck you open for as long as I want."

Poe opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. "Damn."

"You love it so much, you make these noises..." Finn sighs and he must be adjusting his position, because when he comes back, he sounds closer and clearer. "Your thighs do this bunching, clutching thing against me, right? And you shove down, opening wide like, like..."

"I can't get enough."

Finn sounds ground-up, and it makes Poe's nerves prickle and twang. "Yeah." 

"'cause I can't," Poe says. "Fuck, Finn, your mouth is, is. Magic."

"Biting your cheeks," Finn tells him, "biting down, shaking my head, and you start this whining moan sound? It kills me."

"Don't die," Poe says faintly. He tries to smile, but it's probably more of a grimace. "Not before I get you off, at least."

"Your hole's _sweet_ , you know that? Strong and deep and needy, yeah. But sweet, too. The more I eat you out, the more I need to keep doing it."

Poe palms his cock. He doesn't dare take it out yet, let alone wrap his fingers around it, not yet. He's so hard and close but he has to try to make this last. "You make it so good."

"You want so much," Finn says, like the thought just occurred to him. Like this is an epiphany, rather than the bare-ass truth of everything about Poe.

"I want _you_ ," Poe replies. 

"Okay."

"It's true, it's all I want, you're it, I want--"

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Finn says. "I want you so much. I want--"

He can see Finn, naked, hand on himself, sweat tracing the lines of his muscles. See his big eyes, the shining red interior of his mouth, his beautiful cock winking in and out of sight as he jacks himself faster.

"Fuck me," Poe says. He always ends up saying this. It's what everything comes down to, getting to take Finn inside himself, hold him there, stretch a moment to forever. "Finn, please, I--. You drive me crazy."

"I like driving you crazy," Finn says, a little more quietly than he has been speaking. Like it's a secret, even between them. "Love that."

Poe grunts, lip in his teeth, eyes screwed shut. "I _know_."

"The way you just go for it," Finn tells him. His voice is more than everything now that Poe's eyes are closed. "Like it's the most natural thing in the world, like you were born for it."

He nods furiously, then remembers this is only audio. "For your cock? Yeah."

"Uh-huh," Finn says lightly. "Sure you were."

"I'll prove it to you."

There's a long pause, so long that some of the heat flinging itself down Poe's nerves goes icy, so long that his hand starts to prickle, so long that he's more than two-thirds convinced that he'll never hear Finn's voice again. (He's horny! That makes logic melodramatic at the best of times, he's only human.)

"Yeah," Finn says, finally, hoarsely. "Fuck, Poe."

"What?"

"Thinking about your mouth," Finn says, and for a guy who used to struggle to swear, he's really got the hang of dirty talk and sexual honesty. That's Finn, quick learner, high achiever, all-around genius. "Thinking about fucking your throat, your spit getting me ready."

"-- _oh_."

"Like that?"

"Yeah," Poe says and has to bite his lips to get some wet back in his mouth so he can speak rather than croak. "Love that. You're so fucking big, and delicious, and--"

"But I want your ass." Finn's tone is clipped now, the way it gets when his goal is in sight, when all his beautiful, intricate strategizing is paying off and the plan is coming together. It's a miracle and a blessing and far, far beyond anything that he's ever deserved that Poe's orgasm is the plan and the goal. Now, and frequently. "Hold up your legs."

"...fuck." He can see Finn kneeling over him, two fingers quickly stretching Poe again, before he braces his hand on the back of Poe's thigh and guides his dick to the target.

"Prove it to me, remember?"

"Proving it! Proving it so good!" Poe slips further down in the seat. "Buddy, I'm gonna jerk off now, okay?"

"Surprised you waited," Finn says, the smile back in his voice, his knowing look impossible not to see in Poe's mind's eye. "Impressed, too."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm an impatient horny Banthafucker, heard it all." His dick aches; pre-cum is sticky down the sides, matting his pubes. His own touch is foreign, clumsy, and cold at first. It's wrong, it's not what he wants, it's just what he has to make do with. "Fuck, you're so. Fucking. Good."

"Fucking you," Finn says. Sometimes he gets Poe folded all the way in half, knees brushing his own cheeks, his hole exposed and stretched and yearning. He hauls Poe up onto his lap and fucks in, deep and fast, bent at the waist so he can smear his mouth over Poe's legs, chest, arms, neck. " _Poe_."

Sometimes they put Poe on his hands and knees and Finn fucks him for what feels like hours from behind, steady, grating, _focused_. It brings up flare after flare of pleasure that combusts over Poe's skin, consumes him and falls to ash, and Finn just keeps going. Until the end, until he's half-gone, too, and desperate, and Poe's flattened beneath him and moaning for more.

They breathe together, harsh and needy and quickening. Poe's toes curl in his boots and sweat gathers at his temples.

"Babe--" Poe shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It doesn't help. "Please. Is it good?"

"So good, so tight," Finn says. "Are you going to come?"

Poe fights to still his hand. "Want to."

"Do it. Come on my dick."

"Oh, _fuck_." It takes nothing, a little more pressure, his ass lifting all the way off the seat, and he shoots up over his hand. " _Finn_."

"Just like that," Finn says after a moment. "You sound so hungry, you know that?"

"I am. Miss you."

"Miss _you_." Finn's breathing comes loudly then, rapid and ragged. "Poe, I want--"

"You got it," Poe assures him, not that he has any idea what _it_ is, but Finn can have anything, so far as Poe's concerned. "Are you coming? Gonna finish inside me?"

In response, Finn groans, long and loud. The sound of him coming is at once so familiar and so desperate and so _distant_ that arousal and sorrow twine together and stab through Poe.

He can't say anything; his throat hurts and so does his nose. Something's pounding behind his eyes.

"Hey," Finn says eventually. "Damn. That was good."

"Yeah," Poe says. "You really are."

Finn blows a raspberry right into the mic at that. "So anyway."

Poe tips his head back and smiles at the dented bulkhead. "So."

Desperation, once it's satisfied, flips so quickly to languor. He stretches one arm, then the other, and wiggles his toes. The pain of distance between them collapses, then inflates again, in time with his breathing.

"You still on schedule for extraction, 7812?"

He shrugs, embarrassed all of a sudden by the cover name. "Looks like it, yeah."

"Good," Finn says, and it's only now, with it gone, that Poe hears, in memory, the worry that had been threaded through his voice. "Been too long."

"Stupid war," Poe agrees.

"Well..." Finn finds it hard to joke about very serious things. "You know what I meant." 

Poe wishes they were back in their bunk, wishes he could roll Finn onto his side and kiss him breathless. He wishes a lot of things and he's trying to sort them out when BB screeches at him from the hold.

"Okay, shit, gotta go," Poe says. "Home soon."

"Holding you to that," Finn replies and he says something else but it's lost to starlight as BB yells _again_ , something about grav locks, so Poe hits end transmission and bolts from his seat, wiping his hand and doing up his trousers as he moves.


End file.
